


the half-windsor knot

by HazelHare



Series: ineffable tie collection [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, how do you even tie a tie?, so soft, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 05:53:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19167124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelHare/pseuds/HazelHare
Summary: Crowley has this knack of turning up over the years, offering miracles and magic and stain removal, leniency from death, and on one delightful occasion some pad thai noodles, so much so that Aziraphale has barely noticed how little he does for himself.Aziraphale never learned to tie a necktie. And this is the first time Crowley helped him.





	the half-windsor knot

Aziraphale stood in a beam of sunlight, in a small bedroom above his bookshop. He doesn’t use the bedroom much, and doesn’t sleep at all, but it is an excellent place to store his clothes. The space is light and airy, with soft pale pine furnishings and a gentle smell of sandalwood. The wardrobe space is far larger than technically possible.

 

Scattered about the place is a dresser, a large ivory paddle brush, an antique collection of snuff boxes, books covering every free surface, and a four-poster bed – for appearance’s sake only.

 

Aziraphale frowned slightly at his reflection in a full-length mirror.

 

“Blast!”

 

His fingers tugged gently at the tartan necktie around his collar – again – and he smoothed it down, attempting to balance the lengths properly, and started once more.

 

“I didn’t have this problem with bow ties,” he told himself in the mirror. “Or cravats!” He sighed wistfully. “I did love a cravat.”

 

But Crowley had bought him a tie. Well, miracled him a tie. Well, _demon_ -miracled him a tie. Or possibly stolen it. Who knew? Who could ever tell with that- that- wily, tempting-

 

“Damn and blast!”

 

Fingers tied up in fabric, face reddening, frustrated with the effort he grasped wildly at the tie and crumpled it in his hands before throwing it to the ground.

 

“I don’t even _like_ you!”

 

A soft, amused voice answered from behind him. “You _do._ ”

 

Aziraphale snapped round, petulant and ready for an argument.

 

“How long have you been there?” the angel demanded, affronted. “You can’t just appear in my bedroom!”

 

Crowley sighed languorously and offered up an eye-roll so large that his sunglasses could not contain it. He stepped forward, turned away and bent forward to the ground.

 

“Oh, _really_!” exclaimed Aziraphale, outraged. “If you are here to- to- mock me, then I will insist that you leave.”

 

Crowley turned back to him with the tie he had retrieved from the floor, tartan fabric twisting between his slender fingers, arching an eyebrow.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yes, ‘oh’. Now face me, I’ll tie your tie, and we can finally go for lunch,” said Crowley, softly.

 

There was a smile just at the edge of Aziraphale’s pout, and Crowley knew he nearly had him.

 

“There will be baklava,” he tempted.

 

“Oh!” A beam like sunlight broke on Aziraphale's face, and his eyes twinkled. “Oh, good.”

 

He stood in front of Crowley, eyes self-consciously darting around his bedroom lest they give away something about himself that 6,000 years of companionship had failed to reveal.

 

Crowley pretended not to notice and began arranging the tie around his own neck. With a raised eyebrow asking permission, and a sunlight smile in response, he gently looped the tie over Aziraphale’s head. His hands tidied it, pressing against the angel’s shirt and the warmth of his chest only marginally longer than necessary.

 

Aziraphale spun on his heel, turning to the full-length mirror.

 

“Oh, it looks wonderful!” he beamed, glancing at Crawley for approval.

 

“Heavenly,” drawled the sarcastic response.

 

Aziraphale shushed him away, fussing. Crowley stood back to lean as nonchalantly as possible against one of the bedposts.

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [this picture of Tennant adjusting Sheen's tie](https://www.ateliermanagement.com/news/photography-by-austin-hargrave-for-high-life-magazine-with-david-tennant-and-michael-sheen) and my brain just took it and ran.


End file.
